Fairest of Them All
by SleepingxDeath
Summary: Phantom of the Opera meets Snow White! Christine Daae, pursued by a jealous soprano, hides with circus freaks underneath the Opera House. The Viscomte poisons her with his wealth, but an unexpected Angel opens her eyes with a kiss.
1. Famed is thy beauty, Majesty!

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I've decided to start a Snow White and Phantom of the Opera crossover fic, since I believe it hasn't been done before. I've been thinking it through, and the Snow White fairy tale will actually work pretty well using Phantom characters. Beauty and the Beast, of course, would have been the easiest, but unfortunately that's been done already, and I didn't want to seem like I was stealing her idea. So, alas, I bring you Fairest of Them All! I hope all of you enjoy this story!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Snow White!

_Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee._

Now, on to the story...

* * *

All commotion had stopped at once in the Opera House when the front doors burst open. The actors stopped rehearsing their lines, Joseph Buquet quit his taunting of the ballerina's, and the ballerina's themselves stopped prancing about the stage. There was only one person who had such power over the occupants of the Opera House, aside from the Opera Ghost. _She_ was back.

"Where are my managers?" Carlotta asked impatiently to the already angry ballet mistress, Madame Giry. Not only had the ballerina's been particularly disobedient nowadays, but now this bellowing diva had to intrude on her own classes! Although, the woman had to remind herself, Carlotta never had much sense to begin with.

"Monsieur's Firmin and Andre are in their office. They have received yet another letter from the Opera Ghost requesting his long overdue salary. It seems these new managers don't know how to run the house as easily as Lefevre could." Madame Giry chuckled to herself and her eyes briefly peered up towards the rafters before addressing Carlotta again. "Miss, I must advise you, this is not the perfect time to talk with Firmin and Andre. They are in a bit of a mess."

Carlotta raised a hand to silence her, "Be quiet! I will do as I wish around here! Apparently there is a new prima donna, no?"

Madame Giry raised an eyebrow, not appreciating the way she was being treated, "Do you speak of Christine Daae? She's not anywhere close to prima donna standards, but she does have the voice, Carlotta, and that's all it takes for the audience to love her." Madame Giry smiled, more to herself then anyone else. "She's definitely on her way to reaching her dream."

"Her dream? Oh, we'll see about that! This good for nothing wrench isn't going to steal the spotlight right from under my nose!" Carlotta stormed off towards the manager's office, all the while screaming their names.

"Well, what do I know? I only teach young girls to dance," Madame Giry fumed before walking off herself in a huff.

"Not exactly the perfect way to welcome Carlotta back!" a ballerina declared, who had witnessed the row, and several others giggled along with her.

"Silence!" Madame Giry announced. "As you were!" The ballerina's sighed, their brief minute of excitement taken from them, as they finished up rehearsals for the upcoming production, supposedly Christine Daae as the lead role.

Carlotta burst through the two doors, Firmin nearly dropping the letter from the loud intrusion. Upon seeing who had just entered, both men cried, "Carlotta!"

"We thought you had left for good after the incident with the...well, you know," Andre said, not daring to mention the prop that had fallen on Carlotta the day before she was to sing in Hannibal.

"I can not believe this! You have replaced me with that Daae girl!" Carlotta screeched, sounding awfully like a dying bird.

"La Carlotta, you must understand! Without the voice of Miss Daae, we would have had to cancel! You had left us with no other choice!" Firmin replied, careful not to make the diva angry, but obviously that was impossible.

"So, are you saying this is all MY fault?" Carlotta's temper was rising every second, her face now turning a dangerous shade of red.

"Of course not!" both managers stammered.

"And do I even have to ask who will be the soprano in the next production?"

"Our one and only diva!" Firmin held out his arms in a mockingly loving manner, dropping the letter with the notorious red wax seal on his desk. He would have to deal with that later on.

"Se, se! These types of things will never happen again, am I understood?"

Andre bit his lip, but said, "Absolutely not!"

Carlotta sighed, pleased at how the way things were already going her way so quickly. "Get my doggie! Bring my doggie to me! I trust you haven't replaced her as well?"

Andre turned to Firmin once the spoiled woman was out of earshot and whispered, "What are we going to do, Firmin? Miss Daae was what brought in the cash! Parisian society loved the new soprano! What will they think now that La Carlotta is back?"

Firmin furrowed his brow, looking down at the letter still lying on his desk, "Better yet, what will the Opera Ghost think of all of this? I'm afraid to say this but, Christine Daae is going to have to be our new soprano, whether Carlotta likes it or not. She might attempt to leave again, but it's clearly going to end better than under the wrath of the Opera Ghost."

* * *

Christine sighed as she heard the yelling of an all to familiar diva that decided to return at the perfect moment. She lit a candle above her father's picture, drowning out the ruckus occurring in the rest of the House. She sat on the stone floor of the tiny chapel, remembering the story her father had told her so many years ago as he lay dying. The story of the Angel of Music. Christine was supposed to be working on costumes at this time, especially finishing up the one dress which ripped during the production last night, but she decided to take a break and pay a visit to her father instead. She hadn't done so for a long time it seemed.

Christine folded her hands in her lap and gazed into the portrait of her beloved Papa, wondering if he really ever intended to send her the angel he promised. She was never visited by anything unusual she imagined an angel to look like, but at times she did hear a voice that would sing to her as she drifted off to sleep, and when she began to dream, he was always there watching over her like a guardian angel.

She remembered the first time she had ever heard his voice, being one of the first nights she had stayed in the Opera House, clearly as if it was just yesterday. The voice was so soft and gentle, that she felt as though she would weep for joy at the sound. Surely angels would not visit mere mortals such as her! She never really expected one to come. But when she heard the disembodied voice, she knew that it was no normal human voice. It must truly have been heaven-sent.

And whenever she heard that sweet melodic tenor again she sighed, for it was like the memory of her father coming back. But when she tried to call out for the angel who owned this voice to speak with her or to hold her, it would immediately stop its sad song and disappear. She was never given the chance to sing along with him, to share in his glory, possessing a voice that was molded by God's hands himself.

Christine tore her eyes from her father's portrait and glanced upward, as though she might spot the winged messenger. But finding nothing, she drew her gaze back down. "Angel, why do you not show yourself?"

Christine didn't expect an answer. On rare occasions did she actually speak with the angel. She was just preparing to leave when a voice that had remained silent all day suddenly filled her senses.

_"You do not need to see me."_

"But I do! I wish to see the angel that my father sent me," she cried out, overjoyed that she could hear his voice once again.

There was a pause before the voice sounded. _"You are not alone, Christine. I am watching over you."_ The sound of her name on the angel's lips was beyond description. Tears sprang to her eyes but she fought them back.

With that said, he began to sing a song very familiar to Christine. It was one her father once sang and that the angel learned when Christine would sing it to herself on countless of sleepless nights. His voice was heartbreaking in its soaring heights and baritone lows. It was so incredibly beautiful that she found herself weeping because of the sheer beauty of the song.

Then, she heard his voice as he commanded her to sing. How could she refuse such a demand? How could she disappoint her angel when he had poured out his soul?

Her angel's voice suddenly entwined itself with hers. Joined together in unison, their voices soared to incredible heights. _Strange, _she thought coherently for a brief moment, _how easy it is to sing, as though the words were made only for us._

The song ended and she was filled with a feeling of warmth and comfort. Christine sat very still, awaiting his response. There was a long silence when the voice did not answer and she began to worry that the angel was gone. But soon his beautiful, deep voice sounded again, in a tone far more gentle than Christine would have expected. _"You have been blessed with a gift. You must develop this gift. It was not given to you to squander."_

Christine smiled in gratitude. She would never have thought that an angel would be appreciative of her voice. It was an honor to hear these words from him. But something still tugged at her heart.

"Angel, please, show yourself to me. I need someone...real. Please," she cried, a tear slipping from her eye. There was no response. But suddenly, the candles blew out in the chapel. Christine's eyes were closed as the room dimmed, but she could feel a slight breeze on her skin. She felt a hand touch her face, rather a gloved hand, and wipe the tear from her cheek. Christine gasped with excitement and fear, but as quickly as it had been there, the presence was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note: **In the first scene of Snow White, the Queen asks the mirror who the fairest one of all is and she is told it is Snow White, thus making the Queen jealous.

The second scene in Snow White is when Snow White heself is sitting on the steps of her home working, when she decides to walk over to the Wishing Well and begin to sing. The Prince arrives and sings along with her for a time and they begin to fall in love. The Queen is witnessing this, but in my story, Carlotta won't be aware of the Angel of Music.


	2. Now, who is the fairest one of all?

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the week long wait everyone. The site wasn't letting me submit my document in for some reason. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! And thank you to **scarletghost13** and **the Mouse in the Opera House **for those reviews:)

_Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, now, who is the fairest one of all?_

* * *

It was the night of the second showing of _Hannibal_ and Christine stood in the middle of a small room backstage. They had given the cast call about ten minutes before, and she now was surrounded by everyone in full costume. 

When someone announced the aria for Christine was about to begin, she stopped just before the door, a wave of neasua overwhelming her. _Calm down! My Angel is relying on me, I can not disappoint him now for being nervous!_ Suddenly, the feeling of the night before came to Christine in full force: the freedom and power she had once on stage. She could do this; she loved being on stage, loved the feel of it, the excitement.

Christine took a deep breath and approached the stage. The curtains were about to open. She could hear Reyer starting the orchestra. The music in the opening aria of _Think of Me_ reached a peak, and the curtains flew open. "This is for you, Angel," Christine whispered as the spotlight shone on her.

Remembering words that her father once spoke, she closed her eyes and found a sort of peace. She used to sing to herself after her father died. When no one else was listening and no one else was near except for her angel, she would sing as best as she could. It was the only connection left that she had with him. Perhaps he could hear her through the angel, even from heaven above. Even now, as a young woman, she found that singing was the only way she could alleviate the fear of being alone without him. The melody suddenly found its way into her words, and she felt her voice move into song.

The opera ran smoothly. Her song continued without incident, and the audience roared their approval as her voice faded with the last word. Up above, she knew an angel beamed down at her with satisfaction.

La Carlotta was seated high above in a balcony, accompanied by three gentlemen, one more noticable then the other two, the Opera Populaire's patron, the Viscomte Raoul de Chagny. He smiled as the young girl sang with that angelic voice of hers...something seemed so familiar about her, but the Viscomte couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Carlotta was trying hard not to pay any attention to the talented young woman performing tonight, but instead insisted on bickering throughout the entire opera. "That girl, I could just strangle her! She took my position as prima donna and these people actually enjoy listening to her!" Carlotta raged with jealousy, as she waved her hand over the audience, all intrigued by the wonderful beauty before them. "Christine Daae will pay for this!" Carlotta said throughgritted teeth.

"Christine..." Raoul whispered the name before he finally realized who she could be. "Christine Daae! Is it she?"

"Don't tell me you actually are in relations with the girl!" Carlotta asked, shocked.

"Why, yes. Yes, I am." Raoul smiled wickedly, an evil glint in his normally cheerful blue eyes. "I guess you can say we were childhood sweethearts. If only I knew one day she was to become a star..."

Carlotta snorted at the regretful man and turned to the other two. "I have a plan that I wish to discuss with you both. We'll leave the Vicomte out of this for now," Carlotta whispered deviously. "Meet me in my dressing room tomorrow morning." The two hit men grinned, already guessing what Carlotta had in store for them.

At the end of the night, the curtain rose one last time, and everyone bowed deeply. Roses were thrown onto the stage, and Christine couldn't help but smile broadly. After what seemed an eternity, the curtains finally closed again. Christine began to walk slowly through the crowds, nodding when she could at people wishing her congratulations. It seemed an effort just to walk and breathe at the same time. But there was one other person she wished to speak to before drifting off to sleep that night...

* * *

Meg Giry gracefully walked throughout the hallways, taking a short break from her dance rehearsals. Her mother was being quite ridiculous nowadays, Meg noticed. They had just finished another opera last night, plus celebration and festivites afterwards, and still the ballet mistress expected all her dancers to show up that next morning to practice. 

Meg sighed, realizing she had been gone now for awhile and her mother was probably starting to get worried. Well, more angry than anything else. She began to walk her way slowly towards the stage when she heard voices in a nearby room.

Curiousity getting the best of her, Meg wandered over to the door emanating the secretive voices. She pressed her ear against the wooden door, for the voices were speaking very low as for no one else to hear them, when she realized she was leaning against the old soprano's dressing room! Soon enough, Meg's ears met the obnoxious voice of Carlotta as she seemed to be adressing a few men. Once they spoke up, it was two men to be exact. She didn't recognize their voices, but they reminded her a little too much like Joseph Buquet, with greasy voices to match their personalites.

Meg pressed her entire body against the door in hopes of hearing the entire conversation clearly, but almost stumbled back when she heard the name of her best friend, Christine Daae, being said. The next statement actually made her gasp aloud.

"Take her far out of Paris. Find some secluded glade where you will not be seen."

"Yes, Madame."

"And there, my faithful huntsman, you will kill her! You know the penalty if you fail."

"Yes, Madame, it will be done."

"But to make doubly sure you do not fail, bring back her heart in this." Carlotta commanded the men, her voice dripped with malice and jealously boiling up inside of her.

The statement made Meg's blood run cold and she was beginning to feel sick. She was hearing the plan for the murder of her very best friend! Meg backed away slowly, shaking her head, as if she had just seen the Opera Ghost.

"Megan Giry! What in God's name do you think you're doing?" her mother shrieked, coming down the hallway in a whirl of fury. "Were you not supposed to be rehearsing?"

Meg was in such a state of shock she wasn't comprehending anything her mother was screaming at her. "Now, young lady, don't you dare give me that look! You should be ashamed of yourself! Now, get back to practicing!"

The minute her mother was out of sight, Meg spun around and headed in the opposite direction, towards the only place she figured Christine would be...the chapel.

_Sorry, momon, but I have more important things to take care of!_

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is based off of the scene in Snow White where the Queen is intructing the huntsman to bring Snow White to the forest, kill her and bring her heart back as proof. The conversation I use in my story between Carlotta and the hit men is actually very similiar to the one in the movie. In the movie, no one overheard their conversation like Meg did in my story, but the huntsman does end up saving Snow White by not killing her, and instead telling her to run away. So, in a sense, Meg is playing the good side of the huntsman from Snow White. Of course, I didn't want the hit men in my story to end up being the good guys, so they'll be playing the bad side of the huntsman from Snow White. Wow, I hope I made a bit of sense. ;) 


	3. Run away, hide!

**Author's Note:** I'm starting to get more feedback, which is exciting! Thank you to my faithful readers **the Mouse in the Opera House** and **scarletghost13** for reviewing again, and also I'd like to thank my new reviewers **Kooriskune** and **Dreamergirl02**! Hopefully you all will enjoy this chapter:)

_Now, quick, child, run! Run away, hide! In the woods! Anywhere! Never come back! Now go! Go! Run! Run! Hide!_

Now, on with the story...

* * *

Christine's name traveled throughout the small chapel, echoing off the damp stone walls as her friend searched desperately for her. Meanwhile, Christine glanced up from the portrait of her father to find Meg staring at her, eyes wide with fear.

Christine stood up immediately and rushed over to her friend's side. "Whatever is the matter, Meg?" Christine asked, placing a small hand on the dancer's shoulders.

Meg instantly snapped out of whatever trance she had fell into and peered into Christine's eyes helplessly, "Oh, Christine, they are coming! She said...she said she was going to kill you!" Meg began to sob into Christine's dress.

"Who, Meg? Who is out to...to kill me?" Christine asked bewildered and frightened herself. Surely the girl just had a simple nightmare?

"Christine, you must get out of here! Run, as fast as you can! Oh, what am I going to tell mère?"

"I...I don't understand. Is this some sort of trick? Who do you speak of, Meg?" Christine's patience was beginning to run short, but she continued to press her friend for answers.

"Carlotta! I...I heard Carlotta speaking with male voices about the murder...the murder she wanted performed of...of Christine Daae...you!" Meg began to bury her head once again into Christine's dress to hide her sobs.

Christine gasped with fright. Never had she seen Meg so distraught. This must be serious indeed to bring such emotions out of usually such a happy, cheerful young girl. "But what am I to do?" Christine asked, helplessly.

Meg gulped loudly, raising her head for her tear stained eyes to meet Christine's. "Whatever we do, we must hurry!"

Christine nodded, still a little confused and unsure about the whole situation. "We'll make our way to my dressing room and plan there. We shouldn't discuss such things inside a chapel." Christine took her hand within Meg's and the two girls sprinted off.

* * *

"Meg Giry! Where in God's name do you think you are running off to now?" An all too familiar voice sounded throughout the hallway and met the girls' ears, causing them to flinch. "And, is that Christine? Didn't I tell you two dancing rehearsals were being held today?" The cold face of Madame Giry loomed over them as she gave them a look that would make the Opera Ghost himself quiver where he stood.

Meg gave Christine a fleating glance, a look in her eyes telling Christine to carry on and she would meet her the rest of the way, before she turned back towards her mother. "Yes, mère. I am sorry I disobeyed you again." Meg bowed her head in shame and stood beside her mother.

"I trust you are coming along as well, Christine?" Madame Giry raised an eyebrow and tapped a hurried foot.

"Why, yes...yes I am," Christine said nervously. "Just after I fetch my ballet shoes in my room. I'm sorry, Madame Giry, I was just paying a visit to my father and must have lost track of the time." Christine gave the woman a weak smile, hoping that her story was believable.

"Well, that still doesn't explain why little Meg was with you. I will let you off the hook for now, but you two best not make a habit out of such nonsense. I do not want to see this happen again." Madame Giry sighed, rubbing her temples. "Now, come along, my daughter. The other girls are waiting for us. I couldn't begin to teach them the next part of the routine with our Prima Ballerina missing!"

Their voices faded, as Madame Giry and Meg left Christine standing in the hallway. Christine turned on her heel and continued the rest of the way to her dressing room alone.

* * *

When she reached the familiar door, she pushed it slightly open and stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. _Now what am I going to do?_ Christine pondered, throwing her hands up in the air. _I do not even know if Meg's wild story is true. Who knows when she will be getting back! I'm standing in my dressing room like a useless fool._ Christine began to rummage around looking for her ballet shoes. _I might as well continue my day as normal._ Although she trusted her friend with her life, she didn't know how to believe Meg's story. It just seemed so...out of the ordinary.

When Christine turned to go, however, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her heartbeat began to quicken as she realized what she was staring at. A red rose laid delicately on the floor in front of her mirror, with the notorious black ribbon tied around the stem. _Ah, my secret admirer has returned,_ Christine smiled at the thought. She always appreciated these precious gifts, but to whom they were from remained a mystery, although Christine secretly believed they belonged to her Angel of Music. Whenever her singing lessons with him seemed to go better than usual, these flowers would show up more frequently. She wanted to thank her angel in person for his meaningful gifts, but she would feel so silly if they ended up not from him. _Well, whoever is my admirer, hopefully I will meet them soon._

Christine sighed and walked quietly over to the red rose, picking it up and running a finger along the silk ribbon.

Suddenly, the lit candles in the room slowly began to blow out and she was left crouched on the floor in developing darkness. Her heartbeat began to quicken still, for this was the way her Angel of Music always visited her with his melodious voice. But instead of a greeting, the remaining of the lit candles were blown out and she was left feeling rather uncomfortable. _Funny, he never has left me in complete darkness before._

But she wasn't in complete darkness, she realized. A slither of light was coming from...her mirror. _What is this?_ she thought to herself, as she stood up slowly and approached the gigantic mirror that always hung on her wall. She wrapped slender fingers around the crack in the mirror and slid the rest aside, revealing a tunnel full of lit candleobras lining the walls. Christine gasped in awe and took a step inside. _How long had this been here?_ She was completely oblivious to this new place until now, although the crack was never there for her to discover either.

Voices outside her door caused Christine to jump in alarm and drop her ballet shoes and the rose she still held in her hands. Male voices. Christine felt sick as she heard one of the men murmur her name and the full force of Meg's little tale hit her. Christine turned back towards the mysterious, yet dangerous looking tunnel before her. The doorknob to her dressing room began to shake, as if someone was attempting to get inside. She heard one man swear after realizing the door was locked. _That's strange, I don't ever remember locking my door..._

That's when she realized what must be done. Christine slid the mirror back closed all the way and again peered down the long and luminous tunnel. _This has to take me somewhere better than what I am leaving behind..._

* * *

She had run for what seemed like hours. The tunnel had begun to grow strangely dark and the air was thick, making it hard to breathe. Not a glimmer of life could be seen or heard. Stopping only briefly to rest, she would not allow herself to think as she leaned heavily against the stone wall. The chill in the air was palpable. Her breath rose up in a ghostly vapor. Down here it felt as if winter was approaching and would soon blanket the world in its cold white shroud.

But she had to keep going. She could not stop. Not knowing where she was going or what she was looking for, Christine had merely run on instinct. She had plunged deep into the tunnels and to the best of her knowledge, had traveled in the right direction. With only the dim candlelight as her guide, Christine had managed to travel miles into the impenetrable labyrinth.

She sobbed aloud as she ran. What was she going to do? Finally, the running and fatigue were getting the best of her, and she felt her legs buckle and she fell to the floor.

"Father," she whispered to herself, "Please help me. I'm so cold and it is so dark. I'm  
afraid."

She hung her head and wept in the dark. All she could see, beyond the shadows of the haunted hallway before her, was the shimmer of her dress in what little light had managed to illuminate off the torches.

The cold was causing her whole body to shake. She remembered warmer times. She remembered sitting in front of a roaring fire while her father would tell her of her Angel of Music. Her face, softened by the light of the fire, felt so warm that she felt a smile tugging at her lips. She remembered his song and felt her frozen lips begin to move as the words slipped from her mouth.

But the song ended sooner than it came, and she felt the bitterness of her situation sink in. She had struggled forever to try and escape the terrifying place she found herself in now, but it was no use. She did not have the strength or ability to continue any longer. She was numb and stiff and she felt too helpless or vulnerable to do anything.

"Where is my angel, Papa?" she cried softly, "Where is my angel?"

A rustle sounded. She swung her head up and glanced around in the darkness, but to no avail. The shadows overpowered the small torches and obscured her vision. The tunnel blurred together into an impenetrable darkness. She whimpered softly, afraid of what might be lurking beyond her vision. Then her eyes caught movement among the shadows. Should she stay still and quiet? She was so cold that she did not care anymore. If there was a chance of freeing herself, she had to take it. But her mind was starting to slip into an impending sleep. Her thoughts began to swirl together.

"Who...who's there?" she called out, her voice falling from trembling lips.

A dark shadow suddenly loomed before her. She could tell, because the faint fire above was extinguished from her view. All she could see now were two glowing eyes. Almost like an animals, but aware and very intelligent. She tried to scream, but the sound that came from her throat was hoarse.

"Father, I'm scared," she cried out in her delirium. "Please send your angel to me. I...I don't want to die."

An arm slipped beneath her weakened body as she fell and lifted her from the wet stone floor. The last thing she could remember, before falling into unconsciousness, was being gathered up into someone's arms and feeling the warmth of a body against her cheek. She felt a heavy cloak being drawn around her before sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter, of course, is the part of Snow White where she is running through the forest and soon collaspes, being saved by a group of forest animals and taking her to the Seven Dwarves' home. I wasn't going to have forest animals save our Christine because, well, I don't think those types of things existed under the Opera House. ;) I'm sure we all know who saved her instead. And also where that certain someone is taking her. Until then, please review! I would love you forever! 


	4. Whistle while you work!

**Author's Note:** Thank you once again to all my reviewers! Your kind words really mean a lot to me:) I hope I don't disappoint any of you with this chapter. I know the title of this chapter sounds a bit childish, but it's getting difficult blending Snow White and Phantom together. I'm wanting the darkness of Phantom, but still keep the innocence of Snow White, while writing with the feel of a fairy tale. Okay, I should stop rambling and get on with the story already. ;)

_Oh! What a cute little chair. Why, there's seven little chairs. Must be seven little children. And from the look of this table, seven untidy little children._

Now, on with the fairy tale...I mean, story. :)

* * *

All was dark. The soft, sweet sound of a music box could be heard in the distance. Christine still felt sore from the journey she endured earlier that day, but she was no longer cold. Her eyes fluttered open and she realized she was lying in a luxurious bed, surrounded by dark reds and black velvet. A movement caught her attention and she lazily leaned her head to the side. She was just able to see beyond the black sheer canopy a monkey playing tiny, golden cymbals. A slow, sad lullaby Christine had been sleeping to.

She tugged on a large tassel above her head and the canopy gently lifted. _Who has brought me to this beautiful fortress?_ she pondered, as she forgot about the music box altogether and began to look about the bedroom with amazement. It was beautiful, but was strangely decorated. Very few candles were lit, so the room was left in a dark, haunting glow, but Christine no longer felt scared as she did in the never-ending tunnels. The furniture were all of dark woods and foreign carpets laid on the ground underneath her feet. Hundreds of red roses consumed the entire room and left off a sweet, comforting scent in the thickair. A large armoire stood across the room and when Christine looked inside, she found men's clothing.

Christine bit her lip and began to worry. She was confused as to where she was or who exactly was her captor. She tried with difficulty remembering the events and what happened before she passed out, but everything was a blur. She remembered crying out for her father...and her angel. She remembered laying down on the ground in a helpless heap. That's when she found herself, instead of on the cold floor, in a bed...here. Someone saved her in that dark and dank hallway, but who?

Small feet carried her across the room as she reached for the knob of the door. Being as quiet as she could, she turned the knob and pushed the door open enough to look out. If her room was extraordinary looking, well, then the rest of the house was just plain abnormal! Instead of normal walls that served as protection for a family in a home, sharp jagged cave walls surrounded Christine on all four sides. The place was very large and sloped downward to meet a vast, glassy lake, the waves lapping at the shore.

But what Christine noticed beyond anything else was most unnerving. Candles upon dozens of candles aligned the walls, were placed on tables and even sat on the floor. Music scores were strewn everywhere, dangerously close to being burned from the fire. Ink bottles were toppled over many places and the liquid was intimidating the white parchment with its deadly black stain. Massive pipes were sticking out amidst piles of paper, which laid on top of what Christine assumed was the organ itself. _A musician must live here!_ she thought excitedly. _But, oh my, what a messy musician he must be!_ Christine giggled to herself slightly, absolutely horrified by the mess that laid before her. He must have left for the day, too busy to realize he left his home in such a state. _This composer must have been the one who saved me,_ Christine decided.

Christine began to whistle a soft tune as she tidied up the mess before her. _If I can't thank him in person, maybe he'll be grateful enough that I cleaned his home for him. It's the least I can do._ Christine closely examined the music scores as she neatly stacked them in piles on top of the large desk. "What beautiful music!" Christine exclaimed aloud.

Hours passed before the entire task was complete, but Christine was satisfied with the finished product. The home, if you could call this odd place a home, looked much more lovely and cozy then before.

Christine slowly walked back to the bedroom. She realized there was nothing more that needed to be done. She would leave, but the lake was serving as a gate, preventing her from escaping, and where she had looked, there wasn't a boat anywhere. _I guess I will wait for the composer to return_, she sighed and laid back onto the bed, the day's work getting the best of her.

* * *

Reinmund carried a bright torch above his head, while another four men followed behind, but stopped suddenly when he came to two separate tunnels, one leading off in one direction, one heading in the other. "Now, which way was home again? Left or right?" The old man pondered this for a moment. "I'm pretty sure it was right."

"No, Reinmund! It was left, I just know it!" Julien announced, tripping over his own two feet and grabbing onto the man in front before crashing to the ground.

"Quiet, Julien! You'll anger the Master!" Reinmund advised the short, young man lying at his feet and the other who was the unfortunate victim to the fall. "Oh, dear." Phillippe blushed, before jumping to his feet.

"Don't tell me we're lost again. I want to get home already," Noé said, letting out a wide yawn.

"Quiet, all of you! We'll just go my way, which was left. No, I mean right. Yes, right. That has to be right." Reinmund continued, taking the right passageway.

All the men sighed a relief when they met a misty lake, little lights dancing in the water from the reflected candles. The men circled the water, taking the almost invisible tunnel which went around the perimeter of the lake.

"Oh, my. What happened to the master's desk? It's...organized now," Reinmund realized, taking a good look at the change.

The jolly old man in the back laughed to himself, his big belly jiggling up and down, "Perhaps the master has changed his ways and decided to tidy up a bit!"

Reinmund shook his head, "No, that's not it. The master wouldn't do such a thing. Someone else has definitely been here before us."

"And by the looks of it, it was a girl!" Julien said, pointing stupidly at the vase of roses placed on top of the desk. Phillippe blushed profusely.

Reinmund gulped. "Now, women...I mean men, this is no time to panic. There must have been a mistake..." All of the short men turned around suddenly at the sound of loud snoring, only to find Noé snoozing in the Master's chair. "Get off of there, you fool!" They all shouted and Noé snorted and woke up, gazing up at all of them sleepily.

"Look! The door to the Master's secret room is open!" Hilaire announced, pointing to the bedroom door, which was in fact, ajar. All men tiptoed towards the open door and peered inside. "Oh, the Master isn't going to like this at all!" Phillippe stuttered.

"Shush! We must be very quiet!" Reinmund said, a chubby finger over his lips. Once all men were inside, Julien gasped, "What a wonderful secret room!" He smiled stupidly.

"So, wait a minute, the Master's secret room is...his bedroom?" Reinmund looked at the other men and they all shrugged in response.

"Look!" Hilaire yelled and pointed towards the bed. All the rest of the men's eyes followed in the direction of Hilaire's finger. Something was underneath a large, thick red blanket, moving in a slow motion, until finally it started to sit up. A groan sounded from somewhere inside the beast and it began to reach forward.

Reinmund let out a high pitched screech, "Oh, no! It's the Red Death! Run, men!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** All right, first off, I'd like to say that I'm going to include these explanations at the end of my chapters still, even though one of my readers is unhappy with it. This chapter really needs one!

So, anyway, this chapter was based off the part in Snow White where she cleans the Seven Dwarves' home, then falls asleep in their bed. The seven men return and find their home cleaner than it usually (well, never) is. They then discover Snow White sleeping in their beds, but at first glance they think it's a ghost. Now, in my story, there is only going to be five men, not seven; Happy, Doc, Dopey, Bashful, and Sleepy. I didn't want someone competing with Erik, so I left Grumpy out, even though he's my favorite. ;) And I left Sneezy out because, well, he just really didn't fit in and it was starting to become too difficult taking care of so many different characters!

I really hope all of you enjoyed this chapter! I know it's a little short, but I really enjoyed writing it, especially the ending. Now, it's up to all of you to guess who is who? I think I made it a little obvious with one of them. :)


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